


under the rotting pizza

by scorpionGrass



Series: you can’t put a price on peace (of mind) [8]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Post-Sector 7 Plate Collapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionGrass/pseuds/scorpionGrass
Summary: Cloud’s work with AVALANCHE was always just a favour. Something he did for Tifa, with the incentive of getting paid.But then Sector 7 falls.
Series: you can’t put a price on peace (of mind) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1363234
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	under the rotting pizza

At first there’s nothing but panic and dust, sending Tifa to her knees coughing. Her eyes well up with tears, hands clenched into fists on the grated platform. There’s a horizon they shouldn’t be able to see, casting everything in the sunset’s orange glow.

Barret has no words, quiet for once. Cloud hates it. He wants him to rage, to stomp his feet and get riled up. To talk shit about Shin-Ra and declare revenge. Anything.

The world goes silent.

~

There’s nothing but the clang of boots on metal as they make their way down. Tifa’s eyes are bloodshot, but she refuses to wipe her tears that track clean lines through the dirt on her face. Her hands are still clenched into fists, so tight Cloud can hear the red leather creak with the force.

Barret brings up the rear on the way down, muttering under his breath. Even with his enhanced hearing, Cloud only picks up the curse words. It’s only the mako in him that keeps him leading them down at such a pace, further ahead than the both of them. But they’re in mourning. The bar, their friends and patrons, their livelihood, all crushed like ants under Shin-Ra’s rule. The President waved a hand and it was done.

They never had a chance.

Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie are gone. He’d always been loathe to admit it, but they’d grown on Cloud, with their strong ideals and convictions. With their smiles as they shared drinks at the bar after successful missions. Jessie’s constant praise and the old motorcycle she’d work on behind the bar. Wedge and his obsession with Tifa’s cooking. Biggs and his stash of unending confidence.

If only they’d been faster. If only he’d killed Don Corneo before he dropped them into the sewers. Maybe they’d still be alive (but they all knew what they were getting into).

“Everything’s gone,” he hears Tifa whisper to herself, trying to cover her shock and process her grief. But all it does it bring more tears racing down the same lines they’d drawn before.

One step after another, they all trudge down, completely exhausted. Their adrenaline gone, their mana depleted. Cloud can’t even cast a simple haste to make this funeral procession go any faster, to get out of this uncomfortable tension, to fast-forward to the part where any of them comes up with a plan on what to do next. But Barret’s eyes are glazed over and dull, and Tifa’s taken to holding the railing so tightly the old paint is chipping off the rusted metal.

When they finally hit dirt, Barret grimaces. “Wall Market,” he says gruffly before taking off.

Cloud and Tifa exchange concerned looks before following along.

~

The Wall Market Inn is full, with the few families that they were able to evacuate. Barret still manages to book a room though, and comes back to them with a key, dulled bronze and antique.

“Only one bed and a futon,” he says.

“Go ahead,” Cloud says. “I can handle a few more hours without sleep.”

But Barret shoves the key at him, pressing it into his chest. “Sleep, SOLDIER.”

None of them have it in them to argue, so Cloud takes the key and the futon, leaving the lumpy but comfier mattress to Tifa.

It’s quiet, but he can hear Tifa’s stuttered breath, like she’s trying to hold it together, bottle it up, and push back the tears. She doesn’t have to, there’s no one to look strong for, but she’s always been like this for as long as he can remember. Trying to be tough, like she’s untouchable. It’s why she learned to fight, to scream in fury instead of fright, to always present herself as a pillar of strength that others could rely on.

“Are you still awake?” she asks softly, voice quieter than Cloud has ever heard it.

“Yeah.”

He knows she can see his eyes, glowing bright with mako, but he doesn’t mind the question. Ever since they found each other in Midgar, she’s always asked instead of demanded.

“Barret… he went to check on Marlene. I just know it.”

Cloud hums in acknowledgement. “Probably needed some time alone.”

“We should be with him. We should be doing  _ something. _ ”

Cloud stares up at the popcorn ceiling, feeling as restless as he did when he first laid down. “Like what?” He can see Tifa shift in the bed, rolling around to face him. Her eyes are redder than normal, bloodshot with dark bruises under them.

“What would you do?”

It’s not a hard answer. “If he’s with Marlene, then Aerith’s mom… he’s gonna tell her she’s been taken, all by himself. Shoulder the burden. Even though all of us failed.”

Tears roll down Tifa’s cheeks with the reminder. “We failed everyone. Sector 7 is gone because of us--”

“No,” Cloud says firmly. “It’s gone because of Shin-Ra.”

~

A loud knock on the room’s door in the morning wakes them up. Cloud, groggy from reliving nightmares and sore from the futon, answers as Tifa sits up and stretches. It’s Barret, a furrow in his brow, jaw set. His sunglasses are in place, preventing Cloud from getting much of a read on him.

“We’re storming Shin-Ra,” he says, voice raw and hoarse. “We’re getting Aerith back, and leaving chaos in our wake.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Well to me it looks like a golden shiny wire of hope!"


End file.
